As time passed busily, the day of the banquet quickly approached.

Even Ghislain decided to take this day off and relax, forgetting about work for just one day.

"I wish we could just have some carefree fun from time to time," he muttered.

Ghislain enjoyed having fun too. Back in his days as the Mercenary King, he would leave all the tedious tasks to his subordinates and only involve himself in things that looked interesting.

However, now there was too much to do. Even if he wanted to have a good time, there simply wasn't enough room to cut loose and enjoy it.

"Ugh, I need to wrap things up quickly so I can relax in peace."

He grumbled, but a smile spread across his face as he slowly made his way to the banquet hall.

The banquet hall in Fenris Castle wasn’t particularly large, but the relatively small number of vassals and servants meant hosting the banquet wasn’t an issue.

Some vassals objected, saying it was undignified to allow the servants to attend, but Ghislain didn’t care and pushed forward with the plan.

For him, it was more fun when everyone played together noisily.

"One day, I’ll have a huge plaza built so even the common folk can join in on the fun," he mused.

He would have liked to invite the commoners this time as well, but even in a small territory like his, it wasn’t feasible to bring all of them into the castle.

Feeling a bit regretful, Ghislain decided to send out free meat and alcohol to every household. The commoners, happy to receive free food and drink, praised their lord, while the servants, who got to experience a noble's banquet firsthand, also expressed their gratitude.

In a poor territory with few entertainments, everyone—young and old—eagerly looked forward to the banquet. Well, almost everyone.

In one corner of the banquet hall, Claude and the mages huddled together, whispering among themselves. They looked pale and despondent.

"Please, just one person..."

"There must be someone who experienced side effects."

"We can't afford to miss a single one. We must find someone and force a tie."

The mages, desperate, were frantically searching for anyone who might have suffered an adverse reaction. Their behavior wasn’t typical of people who normally valued reason and logic, but it was a clear sign of their anxiety.

‘The goddess may not have sent a demon lord, but maybe she at least sent us a pimple or two,’ thought Claude.

He stared intently at the entrance to the banquet hall, inspecting the faces of everyone who entered.

By the time the basic food setup was complete and the hastily assembled band had taken their places, Ghislain finally entered the hall.

"Hasn’t it started yet? Just start already. Why all the fuss?"

Normally, the highest-ranking person is supposed to make a grand entrance at the end, but Ghislain didn’t care about such formalities.

The moment he plopped down in a chair and began tearing into a piece of meat, the flustered vassals hurriedly shouted, "Start the music!"

The band hastily began to play.

Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!

The musicians, hastily gathered, weren’t very skilled. Barely able to hit the right notes under normal circumstances, they struggled even more now, starting without any preparation.

As soon as the door opened, the people, who had been waiting eagerly for the banquet to begin, rushed in all at once.

Though not as extravagantly dressed as nobles, they wore their cleanest clothes and had clearly put in effort for the occasion. Another thing they all had in common was their glowing, radiant skin.

"Ugh…"

Claude turned his head away. It was definitely the lighting that was making his eyes sting—it wasn’t tears because he felt like he was going to lose!

"Damn it…"

Cursing under his breath, Claude continued scanning the crowd. Everyone’s skin was smooth and clean, without a single blemish. The only people with troubled expressions were the mages standing beside him.

When the hall was almost full, Ghislain raised his hand, and the music stopped. Honestly, the off-key music was starting to hurt his ears.

"I appreciate all the hard work you’ve put into managing the territory. You all deserve to rest tomorrow because we’re going to be busy again soon."

It was a simple and brief speech, but everyone nodded in understanding. Ghislain’s reputation for being direct and avoiding unnecessary formalities was already well known.

Then, with a sly smile, he turned toward Claude and the mages.

"As most of you know, Claude and the mages made a bet with me."

At the mention of the cosmetics, the hall fell silent.

It was time to reveal the results of the bet—one that had an obvious outcome.

"Of course, people's opinions on cosmetics can be subjective. But from what I understand, most of you have tried it."

Ghislain leaned back in his chair, speaking with a casual tone.

"If anyone experienced side effects, come forward now. I’ll make sure you’re properly compensated."

Nobody moved.

In truth, even if someone had experienced side effects, who would dare step forward before their lord? Fortunately, no one had.

"Looks like nobody had any issues. Now, let’s leave it to everyone here to judge the results of the bet. Speak honestly about your experience with the product."

At first, people hesitated, unsure, but one by one, they began to speak.

"It’s truly effective. I’ve never seen anything like it."

"My skin’s much better than before. It really works."

"There were no side effects! It’s the perfect product!"

"Could I get another one? Please?"

As more people voiced their opinions, the hall buzzed with praise for the product. Many even lamented that they wouldn’t be able to get it again anytime soon.

Eventually, the praise for the cosmetics turned into praise for Ghislain.

"It’s incredible! First, you showed us a new farming method, and now you’ve created this amazing product!"

"This is going to be a huge hit! It’ll be our territory’s specialty!"

"Please make more! We’ll believe in whatever you make now!"

The compliments poured in endlessly.

Ghislain leaned back arrogantly, basking in the praise with a satisfied smirk.

Once the praise began to die down, Ghislain glanced at Claude and the mages.

"Well? I think the results are clear."

"Ugh…"

Claude and the mages turned pale.

No matter how much they had hoped otherwise, there wasn’t a single person with a pimple. The cosmetics had truly worked.

There was no room for argument.

Claude looked around the hall, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze upon him. All were waiting for him to admit defeat.

"Sigh..."

He let out a long sigh, staring up at the ceiling before chuckling bitterly.

"Well, there’s no denying it. You succeeded again, Lord. Where on earth did you learn how to do this?"

No matter the reason, Claude had to accept his defeat.

After all, that’s what it means to be a gambler.

Of course, it was all nonsense.

"Fine. I lost."

He was now a slave for the next 20 years.

Well, he had gambled with his life on the line, so the outcome was only natural.

As Claude nodded in acknowledgment of his defeat, people around him murmured in admiration. Accepting 20 years of slavery so calmly—truly, only someone as exceptional as the steward of Fenris could pull that off.

Claude forced a bitter smile, shaking his head in resignation.

With a slight smirk, he held out a fist to Alfoy.

"I lost, but we fought well. It was a great match, don’t you think, bro?"

Alfoy, who had been standing there in a daze, slowly turned his head.

Seeing Claude smiling brightly, he let out a small chuckle.

Then, as Alfoy raised his fist to meet Claude’s in a friendly gesture… his hand suddenly opened.

Whoosh!

Flames erupted from Alfoy’s palm.

"Wha—!"

Startled, Claude was yanked back by Wendy, narrowly avoiding getting his face burned.

Though his face was spared, he ended up tumbling to the floor in the process.

"Hey, bro! What the hell are you doing?"

Rubbing his backside, Claude looked up to find Alfoy and the mages glaring at him with icy expressions.

"Huh? Wait a second! Are you seriously going to attack me? In front of the lord? It’s supposed to be a happy day!"

"Kill him."

Alfoy and the mages began gathering their magic.

Realizing how dire the situation had become, Wendy quickly scooped Claude up and bolted out of the banquet hall.

Not even she could take on 26 mages head-on.

"Kill him!"

The mages surged after them.

Caught off guard, the guests could only watch in bewilderment.

Ghislain waved a hand dismissively and said, "Don’t mind them. Just keep enjoying yourselves. I’ll go catch them later."

With their lord gone as well, the guests were free to enjoy the banquet without a care.

Meanwhile, Wendy grumbled to herself about missing the rest of the banquet as she ran all over the estate, carrying Claude on her back.

"Run! If we get caught, we’re dead!"

"Shut up."

Alfoy and the mages pursued them relentlessly, their faces burning with rage.

The chase finally ended when Ghislain intervened and subdued everyone.

"We have a problem," said Claude, his face solemn.

Judging by his battered appearance, it seemed he had taken a beating somewhere along the way.

"You always have a problem. What is it this time?" Ghislain asked.

"While the cosmetics have been a great success—and everyone who tries them is amazed—we can’t mass-produce them. The cost of the materials is too high. And if we make small batches, the production speed is too slow."

This particular cosmetic required a lot of medicinal herbs. The most expensive ingredient was a flower known as the 'Fairy’s Blessing,' the same flower Ghislain had used to treat Gillian’s daughter. It was worth its weight in gold.

Though only a small amount of it was needed, the production cost was still quite high.

"That’s fine. We’ll just sell it at a higher price to the nobles. They’re the main target anyway."

"That’s a solid strategy, but the nobles have to actually buy it for us to make money. Even the servants in the castle were reluctant to use it. Gillian only used it out of loyalty. Nobles won’t be the same."

"That’s why we need to start promoting it."

"And how exactly do you plan to do that? This is a rural territory, and we don’t even have many nobles around."

Ghislain nodded, as if he already had an idea in mind.

"We’re going to the capital."

"What?"

"All the nobles who enjoy socializing are in the capital, right? We’ll build connections there and start selling the cosmetics."

"Sigh... You know how picky the nobles in the capital are. What makes you think they’ll buy your product? If it doesn’t sell, we’ll end up taking a huge loss."

"What if we make them use it by force?"

"...Excuse me?"

Claude’s eyes widened in disbelief. Forcing nobles to use the product—was that even possible?

"We’ll kidnap them, keep them locked up for about two weeks, and then release them once their skin improves."

"Are you insane?"

"But wouldn’t they be grateful once they see the results?"

"They’ll probably kill you first. Then, after they realize it wasn’t poison, they’ll think, ‘Oh, it wasn’t so bad.’"

"Hmm, so that’s a no-go."

"Obviously! Can we please act sensibly for once?"

Even Ghislain had to admit that this plan had some flaws. Without the reputation of a prestigious family like the Delphine Duchy, it would be very difficult to sell to nobles.

"Let’s just deal with that when we get there. Keep ordering the ingredients—we’ll need to keep producing the cosmetics anyway."

"Ugh… Well, it would be a waste not to sell something this effective."

Claude wasn’t entirely opposed to selling the product. There was nothing like it anywhere on the continent.

The best scenario would be for it to spread by word of mouth among the nobles in the capital. They were the trendsetters, after all.

Once they started buying, the money would pour in. The only problem was getting the first few to try it.

"In the beginning, it’ll probably be hard to sell, so maybe we should produce smaller quantities until word spreads."

"No, let’s stockpile. Once someone uses it and it starts selling, we’ll need a lot. It’ll take too long to ramp up production later."

"That’s true, but the longer it doesn’t sell, the more we lose. The production cost is just too high, and storage space is limited."

"It’ll be fine. I’ll go to the capital and handle it myself. If worst comes to worst, I’ll sell it door-to-door. Don’t some people sell that way?"

"...Your sales strategy is giving me a headache."

Claude couldn’t imagine who would buy cosmetics from a rural noble who showed up at their door.

Ghislain might even threaten people with his sword to make them buy it.

If that happened, Ghislain’s reputation would plummet, along with the dignity of those around him.

"Maybe we should reconsider the door-to-door idea. Building connections with nobles seems like a better approach."

"I’m considering that too. Sigh… making friends isn’t easy."

"…Yeah, no kidding."

This time, Claude didn’t place a bet. The product was effective, and sooner or later, word would spread.

Eventually, nobles would start buying it, and connections would form. But that wouldn’t happen overnight, and in the meantime, they’d be stuck with unsold stock.

"When are you planning to leave? It’ll take some time to build up enough stock."

"We’ll head out once we have enough to sell. We’ve been producing during the test phase, so it shouldn’t take too long."

"Sigh, fine. Good luck. I hope you make a lot of friends and sell it well."

Claude feigned concern but secretly looked forward to Ghislain’s absence. Just traveling to the capital would take a month, and promoting the product would take even longer.

He planned to use Ghislain’s absence to take a well-deserved break and rejuvenate his exhausted body and mind.

‘Please, leave as soon as possible.’

But then Ghislain’s next words struck him like a bolt from the blue.

"Leave? What do you mean, ‘leave’? You’re coming with me."